When in Doubt
by Animated and Insane
Summary: ...use an ambiguous title. In which Romania is impatient, and the author is more confused than the reader. T because I'm paranoid. [Discontinued]
1. Prologue

A dusty book dropped onto a somehow even dustier floor. Another book smacked into one of the nearby of a bookshelves. A third was lodged firmly between candles in an unlit light fixture, countless others scattered haphazardly about the dimly lit basement.

Romania considered a dusty green book, titled "_Herbal Remedies for the Relatively Competent _"for a moment, before chucking it over his shoulder. It smacked into a painting of a field leaning against a bookshelf, but went straight through the painted surface with a splash.

"_The History of Dragons in the Americas_" and "_Six-hundred and forty-two Memory Charms_ "landed on the top an old trunk that appeared to be both purple, and covered in fur.

"_Dangerous Plants of the World: Volume One_" sank to the bottom of a fish tank full of scummy, stagnant water. It was followed by volumes two and three, and a cracked porcelain model of an ear.

Romania hadn't really wanted to dig around in England's basement, but since England had straight up refused to give him the spell- or even tell him what it did, he had to resort to more drastic measures. Not that he had too many qualms about breaking and entering-Especially if it was England. He was more worried about whatever sort of freaky things England probably had crawling around in his basement, and Romania was not particularly keen on having his head bitten off and digested by some mutant man-eating-plant thing.

"_Parlor Tricks to show your Friends_" Collided with a writing desk and exploded into a cloud of butterflies, which then crumbled into shimmery dust.

Romania pulled the chair out from the writing desk and sat down, making sure not to touch the book/butterfly dust. (That stuff was probably poisonous or something)

It was fairly obvious that this approach wasn't going to work very fast. The basement was massive, not to mention that he barely even knew what he was looking for. But he was going to find out what the spell did, even if it put him in the hospital, and if the spell didn't put him in the hospital, then England definitely would.

'I wonder if "_Accio book England won't show me_" would work?'

Probably not.

* * *

Just a prologue for now, until I figure out what I'm doing.

My first fanfiction, feel free to criticize me to death. (but please no flames.)


	2. Chapter One

I apologize if Romania seems OOC, I've never actually written him before. (If he is tell me, please.)

I'm also sorry for writing such short chapters, but I'm working on making them longer.

I don't own anything.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, England normally would've given the dark, dust coated (and preferably padlocked.) room that was his basement a wide berth, but much to his displeasure; today he would have to venture down into the dusty catacombs of "_way to many things, too little organization_."

This was, in part, because England couldn't remember what he had been doing last night. Normally he would chalk it down to too much alcohol and get on with his life, if not for the fact that he had absolutely no signs of anything that could resemble a hangover. That, and for some bizarre reason every single cup, glass, dish, and bowl he owned were currently shattered into a million pieces on his kitchen floor. Needless to say, he was glad that he had been wearing shoes when he walked into his kitchen that morning.

England knew that at some point a few years ago he had left an old tea set down in his labyrinth of a basement, and though it was probably now dirtier than every feather duster that ever existed combined, it was still better at holding liquid than the sad shards on the floor that had once been dishes.

Thus, England found himself with a lantern, unlocking the usually untouched padlock on the basement door.

...

Most times when one walks down into a padlocked basement, they will find the room it more or less how they left it.

Now was not one of those times.

To say that England was a bit surprised to find Romania sleeping is his basement was to say that America only _kind of_ liked hamburgers and Spain _sometimes_ ate tomatoes.

In reality, he did a double take, tripped over an inconveniently place book, dropped the lantern in a fish tank, and then tipped over a broom. The broom handle nudged a birdcage, which then fell down on his head.

The first thing Romania saw when he woke up was England on the floor, with a birdcage lying on his head. The image took a minute to click in Romania's mind. "_England... Floor...Birdcage... England...Floo-_ "Then the image finally registered. Romania shot upright and directly out of the chair.

England removed the offending birdcage by angrily throwing it at the opposite wall.

He spluttered for a moment "I-! You-! The- HOW THE BLOODY _HELL_ DID YOU GET IN MY BASEMENT?!"

Romania eyes shifted nervously around the room for a moment before he responded.

"Well, not the 'normal' way if that's what you mean," He stood up using the fallen chair as leverage. "I suppose I may have made a bit of mess-"

England wasn't amused "Oh, _really_ a _bi_-!"

Romania cut him off "-It was already messy anyway, besides that's not important part. I _need _you to let me see whatever spell is that book!"

This was truly England's final straw. "Well to bad for you- I've hidden it. It's not even in my house anymore, you insufferable –"

What followed was a violent string of various insults and a variety of cursing that lasted a duration of around two minutes before calming down into something more of a lecture.

"- and I highly doubt you even know the significance of what's inside! Not that you…"

England trailed off after finally noticing that Romania was no longer in the room, and that he was now talking to thin air.

* * *

I still feel like such an idiot for posting chapters this short. *sigh*

My plot outline desperately needs some of Animated's attention...

Criticism openly welcomed, and if I make an error by all means tell me!


	3. Chapter Two

_Italics_= thoughts

* * *

Romania landed yet another crumpled up piece of paper in the waste basket across the room, as his swivel chair completed yet another rotation.

He had hit a roadblock in his search. He had tried calling America, (annoying as he was.) he knew England well enough to guess where he might hide something, but he hadn't answered. Romania wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or to let out a sigh of relief. Sometime later he had tried calling Norway. The phone was answered, there was five whole seconds of silence, and the phone was hung-up. Romania knew from experience that this meant Norway had fully acknowledged his call, and did not want to talk to him now, or any time in the near future.

Romania propelled the swivel chair around a few more times, and threw another balled up piece of note paper. It bounced into a lampshade instead of the intended destination. Then there was odd Silence. Come to think of it, Romania wasn't really sure why he thought crumpling up pieces of paper and throwing them away would help him think. He wasn't even writing anything on them...

Undaunted by this method's lack of success, he ripped another page out of the spiral note book in his hand. He spun the chair again, and threw another wad of paper. It actually flew out the window behind him because of the chair's momentum, but he decided not to take much notice as of now.

_"Alright, here's a thought,"_ Romania's chair completed another revolution. _"How do I find things that I lose?"_

Romania threw the yellow notebook onto the back on the old recliner across the room. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure where that recliner came from- because it certainly wasn't in his house yesterday.

In typical fashion, he decided not to care until it might actually matter.

_"Alright, if I was a hidden spell book where would I be..." _Romania paused _"No, scratch that- where would I hide something if I was Englan-"_

Romania grimaced. Him as England. Not a pretty thought.

_"...Not to mention the whole 'eyebrow' prob-"_ He mentally smacked himself _"Alright If I was England-" _he shuddered _"-where would I put something I didn't want anyone to find...?"_

Romania was sure he had heard England say that it wasn't in his house. At the time he had assumed he meant his 'house' house... but maybe?

Romania probably would've thought more on the subject had not the word 'house' set off a peculiar mental alarm.

It was at that moment that Romania realized he didn't recognize the wallpaper in this room. It was also at that moment he remembered he didn't own a swivel chair. Nor, for that matter have a private office, a painting of a swan, a waffle maker,(Which was for whatever reason stapled to the wall,) and especially not a small Jack-Russell Terrier that was becoming rather annoyed at the man tossing crumpled up notebook paper into his water bowl.

Oh that's right, he wasn't in his house.

Long distance apparition really could be more of a hassle than it was worth. In any case he really had to be going…

…

… but he could grab a quick bite to eat first.

* * *

Sorry for another short chapter, but it just ended so well there that I couldn't resist.

Will we ever find out why Romania wants the book? Will we find out what's in it? Will I ever stop asking questions?!

...

I've heard Romania described as "carelessly eccentric", and I'm hoping this fits the bill.


	4. Chapter Three

Romania walked quickly down a London street, thoroughly lost. Not that he was going to admit that last part.

He half-heartedly munched on a ham sandwich he had taken out of the fridge of whatever unfortunate, Jack-Russell terrier owning, waffle maker-to-the-wall stapling person had lived in the house Romania had happened to "take a break" at.

The sandwich wasn't half bad either, but it didn't change the fact that he was still lost. Guess that's what happens when you don't visit a city for sixty straight years, then come back and expect to know exactly where everything is.

Insert obligatory joke about using Google maps here.

Although Romania kind of doubted that a Muggle map would've helped him find the place he was looking for, it still would've been nice to have one. He stumbled upon a conveniently placed bench and sat down dejectedly.

He wished he could stumble upon a conveniently placed _map_.

The gray sky rumbled ominously.

"..._an umbrella might be nice too_." he thought glumly.

A massive flash of lighting illuminated the sky over head for an instant, quickly followed by a deep rumble of thunder.

The sky split open and dumped its contents onto the city below.

"_While I'm at it, I'd like a mansion and a million dollars_."*****

...

"Yeah right."

Five inches of rain, four hours, three miles, two more ham sandwiches, and one trip to a (conveniently placed) superstore later, Romania was (sort of) back on track.

In other words, he had an umbrella and a map now.

Romania still had no idea where he was going, but that wasn't the important part. The important part was that he _felt _like he knew where he was going. That and the umbrella kept him from getting soaked head to toe by the massive deluge of rain pouring out of the sky, so he was in a somewhat better mood.

Please note the "somewhat."

* * *

IT'S A MIRACLE, I'M NOT DEAD!

...But I haven't managed to write anything in so long...really sorry 'bout that.

This Chapter is way too short for my liking, but I'm actively writing the next one already, It should be up in a day or so.

*I used dollars so that more people would have a better understanding of the amount.


	5. Discontinued

Sorry to disappoint anyone who may enjoy this, but I've discontinued this fic. I'll admit that I never intended to go anywhere with it. I'm actually surprised that I wrote as much as I did, and for a fist attempt at a fan-fiction it was surprisingly kind of okay.

Author out.

Peace.


End file.
